When I say Goodbye
by miss selah
Summary: And when I say goodbye, I’ll pretend it doesn’t mean forever


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And When I Say Goodbye. . .**_

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Her friends would wonder about her. About how she was holding up. She heard their quiet whispering from behind her as she stood beneath the wide branches of the Goshinboku, touching the bark of the tree with a quiet discontentment.

"What was so wrong with her?" She heard Ayumi whisper.

"Didn't you know?" Was Yuka's hushed response.

"Know what?" Of course she didn't know. Kagome wasn't too sure how the other two knew.

"Today is the day that _he_ died. . ." Was Eri's queit announcement.

She shook her head at the irony of it all. He was strong. . . much stronger than she was or could ever hope to be. So why was it _he_ would be the one that died? Why was it, that after all they had been through, even after they had defeated Naraku, he would die?

He had developed a disease. . .Kagome still didn't know what it was. She shook her head. It figured, she thought, that he would never die in a battle. He was much to strong. . . on the _outside._ It was just his immunity that had been defenseless. . . They had endured so much together. . . it was just so odd that he wasn't here anymore.

She had awoken that morning in a state of shock. How was it February 18th already!?! It had just been there last year, yet. . .

Here it was again.

Eventually her friends would leave her. They grew cold and bored, but lasted much longer than Kagome had thought that they would. But still, one by one they had left her to stand beneath the stretching branches of the wide Goshinboku tree, alone in the cool mists of the settling twilight.

She stared blindly over the hedge and saw the streets of Tokyo far below her. In the distance, she heard the hustle and bustle of the city, but it seemed so far away now, she could almost imagine herself back in the distant past, where none of this would exists.

Where she could be at peace.

And as she stood there in silence, with he cloak of the night enveloping her with a cold embrace, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath and _remembered. . ._

He really _was_ gone. Three years ago, to the day, he had left her to face the world alone. He, who had sworn that he would always be by her side. She knew that he was gone. She had accepted it months ago. . . maybe even longer than that. But as she listened to the grassy loe of the Higurashi shrine settling around her, the wind tugging at her long black hari and skirts caressingly, she could almost imagine that once more she stood upon the hill with him and _nothing_ had changed.

They _had_ stood there before, together, and watched the world fall asleep around them They hadn't spoken then. . . they hadn't needed to. They belonged there. . . sometimes, it would seem, more than the wide Goshinboku that had protected them from the extreme colds and heats with it's branches.

"Inuyasha. . ." She was surprised when it came out with tears. "Inuyasha. . ." She repeated, almost reverntly when an out of place breath of warm breeze made thin strands of raven hair dance in front of her eyes. How odd, she mused with a sad smile, that a warm breeze would come to her on such a cold night, urging her to move forward. . .

Just as he would have.

The odd air made the mists and fog settling around her twist in gortesque forms, curling and circling around her like a chinese painting of clouds done in a black ink stone. She touched her shoulder where he would have rested his head, dragging the pads of her fingers over her goose chilled skin slowly. . . slowly. . .

"Kagome. . ." If she stod there long enough, she could almost hear him whisper to her. She could almost feel the touch of his lips at the soft spot on the base of her neck. She could almost feel the strength of his arms wrap around her waist, pushing her back against him. Holding her to him.

As if he could really hold on to her.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to imagine. His hands covering her stomach. . . she splayed her fingers over his. . .

"We had a baby. . ." She informed him tearfully, thinking of the little girl lying in her bed in the second story of the house. Thinking of the little girl who never met her father.

Tighter. . . _tighter. . ._

But the image that she had painted of him, of him over her, of him next to her, of him _with_ her, slipped slowly from her mind's eye as the sun made it's final descent over the horizon, shrouding her in darkness. She opened her eyes and sighed, as if she had just come out of a beautiful dream. She touched her cheek where hse knew her tears had gathered and was surprised to find that they had already been wiped away. She smiled as she kissed the little dampness she had managed to catch.

He would have wiped them away for her. . .

She stood for only a few heart beats longer than she needed to, preserving his memory, before she looked back towards the shrine house. Her eyes fell upon a window where the light wasn't supposed to be on and watched her daughter watch her.

So she knew. . . Kagome thought with a wry smile as she walked towards the house, leaving the ghost of the man that she had loved standing alone beneath the branches of the Goshinboku.

When Kagome reached the front door, it was opened for her.

Kyoto, her daughter, stood panting and holding on to the door handle, frowning at her mother.

"What is it, Kyoto?" Kagome asked with a smile on her face and a tear in her eye.

Kyoto took her mother's hand in her own tiny ones. "I saw you crying. . . and I saw a man with you."

Kagome blinked twice. "You saw a man with me?"

Kyoto nodded. "I didn't recognize him. . . but he had silver hair like mine."

Kagome smiled and repeated her slowly. "Silver. . . hair. . ."

Kyoto nodded. "Who was he?"

Kagome picked up her daughter and turned back towards the Goshinboku. "He was a very dear friend to me. . ." She answered.

Kyoto frowned. "Then why didn't you say goodbye?" She asked.

Kagome kissed her daughter- no, their daughter- on the nose. "I said goodbye to him a long, long time ago."

It was obvious that Kyoto didn't understand. . . but as Kagome looked upon the ancient tree that they had first met, she didn't really want to explain to her daughter. . .

That when she said goodbye, she pretended that it didn't mean forever.


End file.
